Desolation, Reparation
by ray's worms
Summary: The timestream is a tricky and fickle thing, all too easy to shatter. Some things are meant to be. Nonlinear narrative.


There are three boys _(maybe four)_ and one girl _(maybe two, six, twelve)._

* * *

One of them screams in pain and horror and anger and fear as he is forced to bring the tip of a blade as sharp as a razor to the top of another's throat. He can already see what will happen, see the scarlet blood that will stain his hands. But his body won't listen to him, his limbs aren't obeying his frantically screaming mind. _(Because he's becoming what he swore that he would not.)_

* * *

One of them begs for forgiveness and asks the universe to turn back the clock for her, for just a few more secondsminuteshoursdaysweeksmonthsyears so that she can _fix_ it all, save them and maybe bring her family home, stitch back together a set of broken hearts that she never knew to be whole. _(Because she just believed someone that she was tricked into knowing.)_

* * *

One of them gasps with pain and surprise as he's knocked backwards by a wave of water that smashes into him, sending him tumbling head over heels. He gasps with horror while still underwater, the most water that he's ever seen that is clean enough to drink, really drink, if you got the salt out of it somehow. Someone else helps him to his feet and holds him back despite his struggling. _(Because he has to save the very person that he once wanted to kill.)_

* * *

One of them clenches his teeth as he stares down a monster, fists tight and eyes narrowed. He can't-he won't back down now, because his family needs him, even the ones that aren't blood. So he'll draw the line here and wait for his enemy to face him in battle, even if he loses. Even though he knows that he will lose. _(Because there's someone that they're hurt that he can't let them touch ever again.)_

* * *

One of them sighs inwardly with relief and delight as his blade scrapes up against something thick and unweilding, a bubble made of science and magic that even _he_ couldn't break through. While his body spews threats and insults and attacks, inside he is praising the clouds themselves that he will not have to watch his friends be murdered at his own hands _(Because now he can finally start to wake up from this nightmare.)_

* * *

One of them blinks her eyes open to a fantasy that she must have created, because there is no other way for it to have captured her emotions and turned them into the perfect palace. She refused to consider the alternative, that this is a trap, a guillotine lined with sugar and honey that doesn't make it any less deadly or sharp. _(Because now everyone can be happy and protected from the shell of a battered and broken world.)_

* * *

One of them smiles and masks the hope and happiness that he feels when a limp body is dragged aboard their vessel by one of their own, when blue and black plates slide apart and reveal the passenger inside of them, the one that reassures him that he is not an imposter, that he is as real as the bottom of the ship underneath their feet. _(Because now he knows for certain that this is someone who is worth saving.)_

* * *

One of them is thrown into the rough bark of the tree that gave them their name, all of the wind pushed from their lungs in one fell swoop. He groans and tries to rise, reaching for the things that will save him and his home, his new lifeline. Only to have them snatched away at the last moment before his fingers touch them, flames curling up as their ashes drift up off into the sky while he runs away, lungs burning with both effort and with shame and horror. _(Because now there is nothing left to save them from hell on earth.)_

* * *

One of them pulls another aside and accuses him of stealing, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. It's no serious crime, just a minor annoyance in the grand scheme of things. When the conversation evolves into something different, he pretends not to see the way that the boy's shoulders relax and he stops tensing his legs, ready to run away from him at a moment's notice if he tries to attack. _(Because he can't help but worry if he deserves to take on the name.)_

* * *

One of them opens her arms and wraps her brother up in a hug, clinging to him like he's the last living thing in the universe. He might be, for all she knows. At least he's solid, not a cruel but oh-so-tempting illusion like the rest of her world, her so-called 'new home.' And maybe, just maybe, he won't ever leave her again, even if it is his own choice, his own life. _(Because she can see that now and she can't let herself forget it again.)_

* * *

One of them gasps and rips free from a weighted net that's wrapped around their body, holding them pinned to the ground and unable to assist his friend. Friend… He shouldn't think of him like that, not when the very reason that he came here in the first place is to kill him, to break him and make sure that he can never hurt them in the future ever again. _(Because he can't tell anymore what's a part of his mission and what's his real human emotions leaking past the smiling mask.)_

* * *

One of them screams a battle cry as he raises the only weapons available to him, which end up being his own hands. All around him are what remains of his family, the only people that he's managed to save so far. He can't let them go again, he can't let them leave his little self-made family that he's carefully crafted. And only if they leave by choice will he ever be able to let them make their own path. _(Because he can't imagine a world where he isn't at his sister's side anymore.)_

* * *

One of them stands oh-so-still not even daring to breath while the dirty white and blue snow falls around him, landing on his shoulders and head and piling at his feet. He failed, he knew what was going to happen and he didn't warn them, didn't have a chance to save someone that was virtually a legend to the rest of them, the people who had grown up with the tales of yellow and red moving in harmony. He failed, and he doesn't know what to do. _(Because this is not how the day that they saved the world should end.)_

* * *

One of them falls, reaching out for her brother and pulling him up along with her, the strength that she never knew how to control the basis for her ability to bring him home safely. No, not home, because at home people shouldn't treat you like you're a worthless child who likes bright baubles and colorful yarn, and here they don't, they see her as a person with feelings and emotions, even if some of them don't like her for it. Her brother's hands hook around her waist. _(Because she will always be there to save him as long as he is always there to save her.)_

* * *

One of them runs, trying to slow down even though he knows that he'll die if he does, because this isn't how it was supposed to happen, this isn't how the world is supposed to be saved. They're all supposed to live, be happy, grow up and grow old before they inevitably die, even if their names will be sung while they are hailed as legends for centuries to come. They aren't supposed to be fading away before his very eyes, disappearing even as he silently begs them to stop and stay. _(Because this isn't how it goes in the history books.)_

* * *

One of them tumbles, head over heels and rolling until he hits a rock. Blood drips down out of his nose, the metallic trickle getting into his mouth and staining his lips and teeth. He wipes it away, suddenly realizing the crushing horror of how useless he was without anything to help him, how he couldn't do anything right, not even save his sister. So he turns and sighs, walking away from the fight-and that's when he realizes that he's walking away from his family, too, and he turns around and runs right back. _(Because he will always be there to save her as long as she is always there to save him.)_

* * *

Two of them meet, a boy swooping through the sky and a boy chasing after the unknown, one of them watching carefully because he still can't quite trust himself while the other does the same because he still can't quite trust other people. It's okay, though, because their guiding lights are slowly coming back, and it won't be long until they know each other's names.

* * *

Two of them meet, a boy running across the earth with the wind in his hair and a girl who shines a bright light through the darkness, one of them approaching boldly because she knows what it looks like when people put up masks while the other does the same because he knows what it is like to chase the impossible. It's okay, though, because the people that they have silently sworn to guide are close at hand, and it won't be long until they can tell each other their names without hesitance.

* * *

Two of them study the device in her hands, one with wariness and the other with familiarity and worry. it may not look like much, but the last one is tense because of the words spoken in his ear, the ones that only he is able to hear and respond to properly. They're the same ones spoken over and over again as he is crushed into the earth, the same ones spoken before a beautifully horrible creature burst into ash. The ones that he never wanted to hear again, hissed in a low buzzing tone.

 _Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible._

Suddenly, he knows that this is the next time that his life will be flipped on its head.

* * *

The partnership between the four is okay at best and jagged at worst, four people with different experiences all on the run from the same group that's trying to imprison them. And while honestly it isn't so bad, jumping through timestreams in an old El Diablo that's apparently been modified for time travel (sorry, _dimensional travel)_ is strange and nigh-impossible, because it's not that big of a car and one of them snores sometimes when he sleeps.

They'll manage okay, though, taking turns driving between two of the boys, because one of the others is from the future where there are no cars anyways and the girl is hell on the highway.

And if two of them end up curled around each other in the backseat (only because there's no room and certainly not for any other reason whatsoever, okay, because the others are taking up the front seat and while he'd be perfectly happy in the trunk his friend won't let him sleep there) while the other two look at each other knowingly, well, it was inevitable anyways.

* * *

The girl approaches one of them, the boy that she has spoken to the least. She holds out her hands and lets him take it, lets him feel how fragile her skin is and how easy it would be to slit open her veins and let bright red blood spill out onto the dusty rocks ahead of them on this desolate desert planet that's similar in temperature to Arizona, if she's being honest. Then she grabs his arm and pins him to the ground, muttering a basic spell for defense and protection and strength so that she can keep him pinned.

She shows him that even though he can break her with one wrong move, she is far too strong to let him do so.

Behind them, on the hood of the red old El Diablo, a boy talks excitedly about how clear and bright the distant stars are now that there's no smoke from the ever-burning fires to blot them out, how close they seem in the dimension, compared to how far they feel back at home. Beside him, another boy points out the different constellations and how different they are, especially considering how they had been almost exactly the same on many of the other planets and versions of earth that they'd visited. Together, they discover some new ones, and they place a fallen speedster amongst the stars.

* * *

The next universe that they go to has a Justice League, and it's the worst universe yet. They're chased down and hunted while the Justice League-no, they're the Justice _Lords,_ and it is an all-too-fitting name for them-clamours for their execution for the crime of dimensional travel. One of them alights on the top of a building, armor formed into twin blades that are sharp enough to slice steel, protecting the rest from another man in armor that is almost the same as his.

One of their blasts manages to make it past him, and a half-gasp mixed in with a yelp is all that he needs to make his vision go red and he lunges.

(They're all okay, all alive. For now, at least. It's something that he's thankful for even as he replaces the bloodstained bandage on his companion's upper arm, pretending not to notice the other scars, the ones undeniably from his own swords, that also decorate his skin.)

* * *

One of them, the girl who shone like a thousand stars, was the main hunter. The others either didn't trust themselves, didn't trust the world that they were in, or joined in whenever possible in the constant hunt for food and clean water. The El Diablo could only hold so much, after all, even if it could slide through dimensions with practiced ease.

They share food, as well as make sure that everyone gets enough water. Some of them have histories with not taking proper care of themselves, whether it's by working themselves until they drop, forgetting to eat for a few days straight, or trying _anything_ to change the future (anything is a wide word, and this particular anything meant something dangerous).

It's hard, sometimes, because they'll come back with thin scratches from thornbushes or monsters, ones that come from spotting something shiny out of the corner of their eye and accidentally ending up running from something that might have been a cross between a velociraptor and a dragon if the huge wings were anything to go by.

Once, they lit a fire, and spent the entire night under a strange sky with eyes instead of stars as they finally shared their secrets.

* * *

The time police manage to corner them in the same worldgalaxyuniversedimension as they began, which is ironic in their unanimous opinion.

They can't call in anybody for help, the El Diablo needs repairs, and there's only one way that they'll let them go.

But it's too high of a price from all but one of them to pay. So three of them make a stand, waiting to meet their enemies in battle for what might be the last time in this timestream.

One of them does not, instead stepping forwards with his hands above his head and a resigned expression, because he knows that his life is an easy thing to give up if it means that there will be others who can live out the rest of their days. They try to stop him, sending down roots as their skin starts to burn, but he's already gone.

He mouths something to one of the others, who closes his eyes and hopes that this is a dream, a nightmare, instead of a harsh reality. The other two exchange knowing looks, but they are all too different from the kind that they had shared before. Now, now they know that there is only one way that this story can end, and they'll go down fighting if they have to.

They _will_ have to.

They whisper a secret plan to their friend, the one who stares blankly ahead as a few tears start their descent down his face.

He came back to kill someone.

He ended up doing something entirely different.

* * *

They stand against the time police on the day that the execution is scheduled, and they win.

When all is said and done and they are standing in the dust at the bottom of a valley that hadn't been there when they began, blood on their hands and dirt on their cheeks, they start to laugh.

They're four kids who have been to hell and back, who didn't even know each other before this whole fiasco began, and they just saved themselves, and, far importantly, they saved each other.

* * *

There are three boys _(maybe four)_ and one girl _(maybe two, six, twelve)._

There is one star who can bring even the fallen back into the light.

There is one pine whose roots run deep enough to hold him steady through any storm.

There is one who broke the world is trying to fix it.

There is one who could outrun the wind but not the past that claws at his heels.

And they are all laughing.

* * *

 **One day I will write a long, well-thought-out, multichapter fic about my small blue son, my small future son, my small nerd son, and my small star daughter running from the time police through various dimensions. Today is not that day.**


End file.
